Interiors

When we think of Woody Allen’s evolutionary assault on film history, we think of his amazing one-two-punch of Annie Hall in ’77 and Manhattan in ’79 (and some may add Stardust Memories to the streak in ’80). But usually forgotten (and some would say for good reason) is the little film in between them in ’78 called Interiors. After years of slapstick, the comic/director’s Annie Hall surprised audiences with a more mature and almost serious direction (and won lots of awards for it). But with Interiors, Allen turned the seriousness up to an eleven.

This was his bold attempt at a Bergmanesque (a term invented because of this movie) cold, depressing family drama; there’s not a joke in sight, not even a smile. It couldn’t be more bleakly Scandinavian, as heartbreak, envy, divorce, adultery, rape, icy silence and of course, suicide by drowning take their turn on the screen. Allen puts together an interesting cast of actors at their most introspective. Leading the way is his then-muse, Diane Keaton, along with Geraldine Page, Mary Beth Hurt, Sam Waterson, E.G. Marshall, Maureen Stapleton as well as impressive newcomer Kristen Griffith and, in a stroke of inspired casting, the great B-Actor Richard Jordan. At the time, not only was this a new direction for Allen, it was unlike anything any major American directors were doing.

Woody Allen: A Documentary

Dir: Robert B. Weide, 2011. Starring: Woody Allen. Documentaries.

At over three hours Robert B. Weide's documentary (originally shown as part of PBS’s American Masters series) is almost “everything you always wanted to know about Woody Allen - but were afraid to ask." As a rabid fan I still have some unanswered questions, but I couldn’t ask for a more entertaining examination of the fascinating career of one of cinema’s true masters. Though autobiographical snippets have appeared in most of Allen’s films, he has remained massively private and almost mythically close-mouthed about his filmmaking (for instance never giving any DVD extras), though in recent years he has done more film promoting and made more public appearances (as have guys like Robert De Niro, as the economics of promoting films have gotten more intense and needy). In ’97 Allen was the subject of a fun, lightweight documentary, Wild Man Blues, which was more about his clarinet playing career and his bizarre relationship to his one time step-daughter and now wife, Soon-Yi Previn. For fans that was the closest glimpse into the man (along with Eric Lax’s 1991 book of conversations with Allen). But with Woody Allen: A Documentary, Weide (mostly known as a TV director with credits that include Curb Your Enthusiasm) has gotten the most in depth, on camera heart-to-heart with Allen. Filled with wall to wall clips, the film mercifully spends most its time on the rarer early career of Allen and less on the stink he has mostly been putting out for the last 20 years.

Woody’s life growing up in Brooklyn is now the stuff of legend. As a teenager he started giving jokes to newspaper columnists, which led to some writing gigs that eventually put him in a room with future celebrated writers Neil Simon, Mel Brooks and Larry Gelbart writing for Sid Caesar. He would continue writing for comedians until hooking up with high-end managers Jack Rollins and Charles Joffe who talked him into hitting the stage and telling the jokes himself. A neurotic and shy young man, Allen never dreamed of being a performer and it often showed. It was a slow rise but eventually, as cerebral comics like Mort Sahl were coming into fashion, Allen found his voice and an eager audience in the groovy coffee house scene of New York’s Greenwich Village at clubs like The Bitter End. Allen soon became a showbiz fixture on the TV comedy circuit; exposure was the goal and here Allen admits nothing was beneath him (the documentary even includes a bizarre clip of Allen boxing a kangaroo a show called Hippodrome).